ENCOURAGE - EQUIP - EMPOWER
IT STARTS HERE.
I recently had a conversation with someone that grew up in the Catholic church who now attends Willowdale Chapel. He wanted to know how our church does confessions.
“Well…it’s a little different here.” I explained that even though we don’t have a set time and place for confession the way the Catholic church does, we’re encouraged to confess our sins directly to God as well as to close friends. It’s a more “organic” process.
In the Oscar winning movie adaptation of Jane Austen’s novel Sense and Sensibility, two sisters have their romantic hopes dashed. The elder sister, Elinor, never reveals her lost love and suffers in secret. The younger Marianne is overwhelmed with misery after losing her love. As she says in the book, “Misery such as mine has no pride. I care not who knows I am wretched.” If you have seen the movie, you may recall Kate Winslet’s performance as the distressed Marianne and Emma Thompson’s characterization of the restrained Elinor.
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The summer before entering seventh grade my parents encouraged me to be a part of fall sports. The two options were cross-country and volleyball. It only took a week of volleyball camp to determine that I would run cross-country. All summer my dad, an avid runner, tried to get me to go run with him. “Just a mile” he’d coax, but I was not interested in training.
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There is a passage in Matthew 5 called the Beatitudes. It is a portion of Scripture that gives instruction about life in the kingdom of God. Jesus was speaking directly to His disciples in this passage, and the crowds were so intrigued by what He had to say they followed him and listened.
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Yesterday was Valentine’s Day, and for many it was a difficult day. For some people the absence of a love interest or the absence of attention from the “love of their life” left them feeling disappointed and alone. There are many people who feel like they have no meaningful connection in their life. They experience loneliness on a daily basis. This holiday that is primarily focused on love can exacerbate this feeling of isolation.
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You know how our favorite sounds like laughter or a musical instrument can bring us happiness, calm, even a sense of love and peace? Research has even shown that listening to running water can help lower stress for some people. Or perhaps, like the sounds of a stadium after a touchdown or a concert with thousands of voices singing along, they excite us and make us feel a part of something larger than ourselves.
Think for a moment about your favorite sounds.
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It’s a new year. Lots of people are anxious to make changes. Many are reflecting on the past year and progress made. It’s a new start, a new beginning. It should feel exciting, fresh and motivating.
But maybe you’re feeling a bit like me. Stuck. Looking at the past year and not seeing the growth you would like. The failures seem to loom large, and the progress has been slow. The new habits gone to the wayside. The goals long forgotten. And maybe, like me, you feel a little discouraged, or a lot discouraged.
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One of the worst moments of my life happened the year after my husband and I were married. Most of his family were gathered at his parents’ home that summer day. I was about to plug in a floor fan when our almost two-year-old nephew started running towards it. Fearful that he might get his fingers in the fan, I stopped and stood up to make sure he wouldn’t touch it. As I stood up, my head bashed into my mother-in-law’s teacup shelf.
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I don’t feel like a new creation.
These days, most days, I feel stuck. Stuck in old ways, old habits, old insecurities, old sins. It’s as though I’m in a swamp, my legs and arms encased in thick sludge, and I can only move forward one inch at a time. Some days it feels like centimeters.
I don’t know if this particular “stuckness” is due to seasonal depression, spiritual warfare, sin nature, or something else entirely, but it’s lasted for several months now and I’m tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally.
As a new year comes speeding towards me like a motorboat…
When I was a very little girl, I would go to my great aunt and uncle’s house on Christmas Eve. This involved a seven-hour car journey in the days preceding, a special Christmas outfit chosen ahead of time and gifts carefully planned and wrapped. It was almost overwhelming to a small child; the excitement, the food, the impending visit from Santa Claus…and the gifts!
When my children were little, they were in a simple Christmas play at our small Milwaukee church that for some reason I often think about. The children playing Mary and Joseph went from door to door knocking, only to have an innkeeper (who happened to be the same man behind every door), proclaim loudly in a deep baritone the words “No room” as he turned them away again and again.
Those words “No room” seem to often fit into our celebration of Christmas.
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You’re sitting at your designated spot at the dinner table, the NFL theme music playing behind you and a heaping plate of turkey and sweet potatoes in front of you. You bow your head and close your eyes as someone at the head of the table says grace. You open your eyes, and the forkful of stuffing is halfway to your mouth when another family member asks the classic question.
Exactly one year ago today I received the phone call no one ever wants to receive. My dad had been killed at an accident at work. I spent the day in shock – unable to really cry, my heart just felt heavy and sad. Friends and family immediately reached out. I think I responded back. It’s all a blur.
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I recently watched a movie in which an American soldier was shot in Afghanistan while out on patrol. Only he and his translator survived from their unit. The translator was determined to get the soldier out of hostile territory and back to his base with no concern for his own life. One of the things that struck me in the movie was how well they portrayed the Herculean task that the translator was facing.
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